To the Death
by Lolkat123
Summary: Ever since Void beat the clans into submission, they live in fear, hardly real Warriors. They are starved, with no spirit or life inside them. Void, in order to keep the clans under her control, decreed that in Greenleaf and Leafbare six cats from each clan will fight to death in the Hunger Games. There can only be one survivor. PUT ON HOLD. WILL CONTINUE WHEN NO LONGER OVERLOADED.
1. The Reaping

**Author's Note: Hello! I've been wanting to a crossover of Hunger Games and Warriors for awhile, but just now decided to actually do it. There'll be four main characters, and a few main supporting cats, and I haven't decided on a victor yet. So, I've started a poll where you can vote on who you think should win! **

**Enjoy~!**

* * *

I suppose it began when Void took over.

I had not been born yet, but the elders remember well when the clans fell apart into chaos.

They say Void came in with huge numbers of rogues, and beat the clans into submission. Now we live in fear, fear of Void and her cats, and fear of one another.

You'd think that something like this would bring us together against her.

But no.

For twice a year, once in Greenleaf and once in Leaf-bare, she pits cats from each clan in a battle to the death outside of the clan's territory. Only one cat can win. The victor is set for life; they receive prey, for themselves and their families, and they never have to go to that bloody battle again. The Hunger Games. Aptly named, as the rest of us were all bloody starving unless we could win that damned game.

May the odds be ever in your favor. Yeah, right. Us against twenty-three other cats, the odds were sure in our favor. Not to mention that they took in apprentices to fight as well as warriors. They sure don't have any damn odds in their favor. Most die within the first hour.

The only thing that matters is survival.

And you have to be willing to do anything to survive.

* * *

Stoneslash gazed around camp, panting. He had only come back from hunting with one measly little shrew, but anything was a blessing these days. The large gray tom padded towards the nursery, nodding to Quailfeather as he dropped the fresh-kill at her paws. She smiled gratefully, and began munching on it while her tiny kits mewled hungrily. Stoneslash's mouth watered at the smell of the shrew's meat, but he turned and left the den.

He sat down in the shade of a small tree, staring out at ThunderClan's camp bleakly. Today was the Reaping, and every cat seemed to be dejected, murmuring softly to one another. Birchstar was crouched outside his den, eyes closed.

The clans still had their leaders, but often the leaders themselves barely had any spirit. Not that anyone did. All that mattered was finding food, eating, and not getting sick or hurt. That was their life. Eat, sleep, hunt.

"Greetings, ThunderClan!" A black and white she-cat strode into camp, tail held high, flanked by six other cats from Void's group. Jay smirked as she looked around camp. "You all look so… excited. I appreciate your warm welcome." Most cats only numbly stared at her, but a few glared with hatred in their eyes.

Jay stepped into the center of camp, snapping her head to Birchstar. "Get up, you lazy mange-pelt. Are your cats ready for the Reaping? Everyone in?"

Birchstar looked around slowly, then nodded. Everyone was in camp. They weren't stupid. It was the death sentence for those that tried to escape the Reaping. Though, it was as good as a death sentence to be Reaped. Either way, it was almost certain death for you.

"Good, good. Nice to see all your cats are following the rules, this time." Jay smiled coyly, and Birchstar flinched. Last Reaping, back in Leaf-bare, an apprentice had ran out into the territory in fear. Unfortunately, his name had been called, and when he didn't show up, he was hunted down and killed. His screams had echoed through the forest, and still chilled many cats.

"Now, as you all know, today is the Reaping for the eigth Hunger Games. Isn't this exciting? Now, we all know how this goes, of course, three toms and three she-cats are Reaped, and we will bring you to the island to prepare for the coming battle! So, without further ado, the tributes of ThunderClan!"

Everyone was fidgeting. _Don't let it be me. Don't let it be me. Please. I don't want to kill anyone._

"Ladies first, as always! Our first tribute- Lilypaw!"

The small white she-cat's expression was a mask of terror. She was dead.

"Now, our second she-cat- Mousewing!"

The gray she-cat flinched, and gasped a little, but her expression hardened. Stoneslash regarded her carefully. No, she would likely not win, but she could make it for awhile. She's at least got a chance.

"Last she-cat- Mintpaw!" Mintpaw closed her eyes and sank to the ground. Also dead.

"On to the toms, we have Aspenpaw, Pinetooth, and last, but not least- Stoneslash!"

Everything froze. He could see Jay's mouth moving as she spoke, but he couldn't hear anything than the sound of blood rushing in his ears. Reaped for the Hunger Games.

Just his damn luck.

* * *

"Greetings, WindClan."

Clovermist looked up, glaring with disgust at Storm, the gray tom that led Void's cats into their moorland camp. The mottled brown she-cat shook out her thick, furry pelt. Might as well get this over with. Clovermist honestly didn't care whether or not she was Reaped. She was the fastest cat in WindClan, one of the few that had any spirit left at all. She hunted every day, and always brought back at least one rabbit. WindClan might suffer without her, but they'd suffer anyways; they already were as it was. Clovermist figured she could have a chance in the Hunger Games. She was clever, could probably make allies easily, and she was fast. Sometimes being able to escape was what kept you going in the Games. Of course, she'd likely have to kill someone in the end if it boiled down to that, but who knows? Cats have been killed by other animals, or of starvation. Clovermist didn't really fear dying, either. If she died, she'd be spared more pointless moons of starvation. If she lived, her and her family would live with full bellies.

Storm sat down, and spoke, his voice sounding bored. "Lets get this over with. She-cats first. Ryepaw, Doeleap, and Clovermist. Congradulations." He continued speaking, but Clovermist didn't listen.

She was going to the Hunger Games.

Things were about to get interesting.

* * *

Frostleaf narrowed her icy blue eyes as Hail strode into camp along with a few others of Void's followers. Ah, the Reaping. Many cats took her as a fool for wanting to get in, but as her name had not been called before, she had never participated.

No matter, this time she would have to be called. It was fate that such a fighter as her be sent to the Hunger Games. No one had ever beaten her in battle, and quite honestly… she enjoyed the tearing of flesh. The sensation of complete power. The fear of another creature struggling beneath her paws. The way you could smoothly slice through the skin. It was too easy. And the glory of winning the Hunger Games! RiverClan and ShadowClan were better off than WindClan and ThunderClan, as most of the victors came from them, along with the fact that most of Void's cats dislike fish. RiverClan was hungry, of course, but usually not more than an uncomfortable twinge or pang. They weren't starving, and so they were strong. Whether they were stronger than ShadowClan was up for debate, but it didn't really matter, unless you were in the Games.

Hail began to call names. Frostleaf's claws slid out with anticipation. "Windsong, Berrypaw, and Robinflight." Hail said simply.

_No!_ Frostleaf wasn't going to stand for this load of crap. She raised her head, opened her jaws, and yowled. "I volunteer as tribute!"

Many cats gave her a look of surprise. There were rarely volunteers, and if there were, it was usually to save apprentices.

Hail gave a rare smile. "I believe we have a volunteer. Which tribute would you like to replace?"

Robinflight was the weaker of the two. The choice was obvious. "Windflight."

More looks of shock. Robinfilght had a bad paw, while Windflight was a strong she-cat. None of them saw her strategy, to throw out the stronger and therefore eliminate extra competition. You had to resort to anything to win the Hunger Games. Robinflight looked horrified. Her one shot of survival, gone.

_Who cares. They won't miss you long. You can hardly hunt. A weak link like you will only drag RiverClan down. I've done them a favor by saving a better hunter._

Windsong seemed to understand, and was the only cat that gave her a nod of thanks.

Frostleaf really didn't care. It was her time to shine- or in this case, kill.

* * *

The sun was starting to set, and ShadowClan's territory was getting dark.

"Where is that bloody Fox?" Larkstar muttered, staring at the camp entrance.

_Where is he, really?_ Nettleshade wondered. _Any minute now. He does seem to like coming during the night. Better to frighten the apprentices further, I suppose._ The black tom began to groom his pelt. Might as well. Nothing else to do, really.

It was only a few more minutes before the russet tom slunk into camp, others close behind. "Ello, my lovelies. Time t' be Reaped by your dear papa Fox. Let's get this thing started, aye?"

Fox had an odd way of speaking; Nettleshade figured he had come from far away.

"Now, for our pretty ladies, we have Shoalpaw, Sweetpaw, and Cinderpaw." Three apprentices. Were they trying to make ShadowClan lose to RiverClan again? It seemed to go back and forth between the two, with one victor each to WindClan and ThunderClan. RiverClan had one the last game, hopefully they weren't going to keep that as a winning streak.

_What am I thinking? I'm turning into exactly what they want, worrying more about the game than my clan. Bloody hell._

"As for the toms, Nettleshade, Barkpaw, and Ravenflame will be our Tributes."

_Oh, Starclan, no. No no no. I can't do this. I can't!_

Fox grinned as he looked at the six tributes. "May the odds be ever in your favor."


	2. Interviews

**Author's Note: There were some mistakes in the last chapter, mainly just the line breaks. For some reason they didn't work the first time I used them. The one that was supposed to go between RiverClan and ShadowClan won't work at all, even though I've tried to fix it. I also realized that I said twenty-four when I only used four cats from each clan. Whoops. Sorry, I'm tired. I've fixed that as well. As I said in the last note, I've started a poll for the victor of the game. You'll notice I allowed you to make two choices. Because of course, there's going to be some romance in here! Whether or not there actually will be multiple victors is still undecided. Also, if want to have someone other than the choices that are posted win, you can say so in the reviews. Last thing, sorry! I'm going to be answering reviews at the end of chapters, if there any. Otherwise, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything but my characters and this fanfic.**

* * *

The twenty-four cats were all brought to the island. First, entered RiverClan, as the previous victor came from their clan. Frostleaf proudly led the six Tributes, who were, of course, led and followed by Peacekeepers. Next came ShadowClan, led by Ravenflame, a black tom with a white tail-tip. Third was WindClan, headed by Clovermist. And the five other ThunderClan Tributes followed Stoneslash.

The island sats cheered and yowled as they saw the Tributes cross the tree that spanned the lake to the island. Once every cat was in, Peacekeepers got all four groups sitting by the huge tree that was said to once be used for Gatherings. No one spoke of Gatherings, anymore, for they never happened. The only reason to gather was for food, or the Hunger Games.

A slim black she-cat sat on a large limb, her tail twitching eagerly. "Welcome! Welcome all!" Her icy voice matched her pale blue eyes. "I hope the journey and Reaping went smoothly. It is such an honor to have you clan cats before me tonight."

_An honor._ Clovermist thought in disgust. More like a joke, and Void knew it too. For this she-cat could be no one else but the bastard that overthrew the clans.

"Soon, we will be holding the eighth Hunger Games. We will always honor your courage and sacrifice- and as you know, the victor will never be hungry again! May the odds be ever in your favor!" Many cats began cheering, but most Tributes only looked sullen and depressed. They were the pawns of Void, used for entertainment. Lovely.

Void was replaced by a large, handsome brown tabby tom. "Hello! And thank you, Void, for your stunning introduction to the Games! I am Cier, and I will be your announcer for the Hunger Games! I hope you all have a lovely time here on the island! Tributes, you will spend two weeks here before the Games begin. There will be trainings, along with interviews! There is plenty of food here, so there is no need to be hungry! Now, there will be a cat coming to work with your group. They will, of course, be victors from your clan in previous games! They will give you advice and tips for how to make in the arena. You will also have a cat that will be in charge of making sure you are comfortable. Please, enjoy your stay!" Many island cats cheered Cier, and he took a dramatic bow before leaping down the the meeting began to break up a bit, two cats padded over to Clovermist's group. "WindClan, correct?" An old gray she-cat looked them up and down. "Well, I'd welcome you, but I'm sure you don't want to be here anyway. My name is Swift. You see, when you become a victor, you live here, with the others, and they won't allow you to have a clan name. This is Wren, he will see to your needs. I am here to teach, but for now I will show you to your dens."

Swift began to lead them towards the fallen tree. Clovermist was confused. "Don't we stay on the island?"

Swift looked back, a small smile on her face. "No, each group nests where they would be most comfortable. They wouldn't want you Tributes to be uncomfortable, now would they?"

The mottled brown she-cat chuckled a bit. She was starting to like Swift. _I wonder what her name was before she won. Swiftbreeze? Swiftwind? Who knows._

The eight cats crossed the log, followed by a few peacekeepers. They went a little ways away from the island, but not much. They were now away from trees, where there were just clumps of tall, soft grasses and a few bushes that made a circle as a sort of border of their den area. "Make yourselves at home. There's a pile of moss over there, for bedding, should you want to use it. These Peacekeepers are only going to be just outside your den, but won't come in unless you start a fight or something. So please, refrain. There's plenty of time for that in the arena."

Wren, who was a small gray tom, sat on the edge of the circle of brush. "If you have any questions, or concerns, please ask me or Swift. I'm happy to help you." His voice was soft, and his eyes were sad. Perhaps this was his first games as an assistant, or whatever they called them.

Clovermist found herself a clump of grass, and flattened it down a bit before laying down.

"Get some sleep. Tomorrow, interviews begin."

* * *

As soon as Nettleshade awoke, he rushed to get up by his mentor, Thistle. As ShadowClan had three victors, there was one for every two cats. He was paired up with Ravenflame, who seemed smart, but no more than that. He was alright at hunting, but as for combat- he was a goner. The two toms were really the only ones that stood a chance from ShadowClan, but it was mainly focused on Nettleshade. Thistle saw this, and was instantly irritated with Ravenflame from the start. "Dammit. They give me one capable cat, and a cat who can't land a single blow. ShadowClan has hardly a chance." He looked Nettleshade up and down. "Hunting, or fighting?"

Nettleshade blinked. "Ah, both. I chased a fox off the territory alone before, and I'm fairly good at hunting."

Thistle nodded approvingly. "Good. I think your only real challenge will be that one RiverClan Tribute- Frost-something. She was a volunteer, and didn't do to save anyone's hide, either. One of those careers, I suppose. There's likely one good cat from WindClan and ThunderClan, but they usually don't win. Don't worry about them too much, but don't ignore them, either."

The two toms nodded. Ravenflame asked, a bit nervously, "How did you win the Games?"

Thistle sat, his expression dark. "By betrayal and deception. I got cats to ally with me, and then backstabbed them when time was running out. I got cats to turn on each other, and broke up packs by making them think they were each other's enemy, and not me. I'm not proud of what I did, but I'm alive."

Ravenflame looked shocked, and Nettleshade was astounded. _How can you go on living with yourself? I would be so disgusted with myself if I had to resort to those measures._

"I can tell you're amazed. Get used to it. No one wins the Games without blood on their paws, I can promise you that. And only one cat can live." Thistle shook his head. "I'm going to take you to the stylists. They'll be prepping you for the interviews. This way."

_Stylist?_ Nettleshade wondered. How strange.

* * *

"Relax. What am I going to do with you if you keep fidgeting?" Ivy, Stoneslash's stylist mewed. The gray tom glared at her. "I don't want you messing with my pelt. What are you doing?"

The tortoiseshell she-cat rolled her eyes. "First, cleaning the grit out of your pelt. You're going to want to attract sponsors, and how are we going to do that with a mess of a pelt like this? Now relax." Ivy's voice was firm. "Don't give me any more sass."

Stoneslash sighed, and laid down. "Very good." Ivy smiled. "Now, lets begin."

She gently rubbed a paw over his back. Stoneslash sighed and relaxed his tense muscles. Ivy gently lapped at his thick pelt, cleaning and grooming. The tom realized grudgingly how nice it felt. He started to doze. It couldn't hurt to fall asleep…

His eyes flew open. Ivy was sitting in front of him, a grin on her face. "Sleepy, are we?"

He growled a little. "Oh, come now. See what we've done with you before you bare your teeth at me."

Stoneslash sat up and moved over to the water that lapped up on the shore of the island. He gazed at the reflection he saw. It was him, but different. His pelt was clean, and fur wasn't its usual ragged state. All the tangles had been groomed out, and his dark gray pelt even looked lighter. _Was I really that dirty?_ His pelt fluffed out, and the fur around his face curled up slightly at the edges. He looked quite handsome.

"Wow." He mewed.

"Nice, isn't it? I can always find a way to make someone attractive. The she-cats will tripping over their own paws after you." Ivy chuckled.

"Th-Thanks." He stuttered, a bit nervously. _I don't know if I really want all that attention!_

"Well, interviews are beginning soon. What are you going to say?"

"I-I'm not sure." Stoneslash said honestly. "I'm not mysterious, or cool, or tough, or anything."

"Hmm." Ivy smiled slightly. "Talk as if you were talking to me. Say what you're interested in, what you hope to achieve. Make them want you to win."

"Okay…" Stoneslash didn't really get it, but he'd try anyway.

* * *

Cier sat up on the branch again, and all the island cats were gathered, chattering with excitement.

"Welcome back, everyone! We have all the tributes her for interviewing, and this will give us a chance to get to know them all!"

Cheers answered him.

"First up, from RiverClan, we have Frostleaf! Everyone, give her a warm welcome!"

More cheers of excitement.

Frostfleaf had her white fur flat, and her whiskers curled in an almost cute way. It was strange, seeing as she was a killer.

"So, a volunteer, eh? Tell us, what made you want to want to swap places with a Tribute?"

Frostleaf sighed a little. "I knew I had to. But I had a hard time choosing who to replace. Between Windsong and Robinflight, it was difficult. Robinflight has a bad paw-kept her from hunting well- while Windsong has a mate. She was also, along with me, one of the clan's best hunters. So I decided to do what was best for the clan, and save Windsong."

"Amazing! Such honor, and loyalty, putting yourself in the games so your clan can keep their best hunter!" Cier cried with enthusiasm. There were some calls of admiration from the crowd. "Now, do you think you will the Games?"

Now Frostleaf's eyes hardened. "Of course. I have to win. I have to..." she stopped, sniffing slightly. "I have to make my parents proud."

"Of course! And I'm sure you will! Ladies and gentlemen, our lovely Frostleaf!"

The crowd cheered. They were completely bought. _Idiots._ Frostleaf thought with a small. _This is going to be like taking a mouse from a kit._

The next interview was with Robinflight. The crowd mostly had sympathy for the cripple, but it was obvious she was no victor.

There were a few apprentices, along with a tom named Ripplefang. He showed a bit of promise, and seemed fairly popular.

Next went ShadowClan. Cier warmly welcomed Nettleshade. "Give it up for Nettleshade!"

They yowled and cheered, as usual.

Nettleshade had his black pelt smoothly groomed, and his tail was slightly fluffed. He looked nervous.

"Ah, a little shy, eh? It's alright, I don't bite!" There was a little bit of laughter from the audience.

"Oh, good, I thought you were about to eat me alive!" Nettleshade joked. More appreciative laughter came from the cats.

"Good, heavens, I much prefer squirrel to cat. Anyways, how are you getting along on the island?" Cier leaned forward with interest. _Is he just acting, or is he really interested in our lives?_

"Well, It's different, that's for sure." Nettleshade smiled. "Haven't had a full belly in moons. Firat time I haven't had to catch my own prey since I was a kit."

"Really? Do you catch all of your own food?"

Nightshade nodded. "Yes, but usually prey goes to the queens and elders first, so more often than not I go on an empty stomach. Though it makes me happy knowing my clan is surviving."

"How wonderful! Such a hero we have here! Moving on, what do you think your main strength is that will help you get through the Games?"

"Well, I'm a good hunter, I suppose, and I can fight. Probably not the best, but I can make with or without allies."

"Modest, too! I'm sure you're better than you think, my friend!"

Cier said farewell to Nettleshade, who was followed by Ravenflame. Ravenflame did get a few cats to like him, but he was too jittery to get a good deal.

After the ShadowClan Tributes were through, WindClan was up next. The apprentices were scared, but one spoke well, and a few commented on how cute she looked. When it was Clovermist's turn, more than a few cats swooned over her.

Her mottled brown pelt had been groomed out, and the long coat curled in intricate patterns. She had a red flower tucked into her fur near her ear. Clovermist was simply stunning.

"My, you're certainly looking beautiful tonight!" Cier complimented with a laugh."

"Well, you aren't looking too bad yourself, Cier." Clovermist smiled.

"Oh, you flatter me! How are you doing tonight, my dear?"

"Oh, I'm quite well, thank you. Missing the hills of WindClan, though. It's so nice there, feeling the wind running through your fur and the clear open sky above your head."

Many of the toms in the crowd were clinging to every word she uttered, transfixed by her charms.

"My, that sounds lovely! Do you think they're missing you, back home?"

"Well, I have a little brother I look out for. He's clueless without me. Our mother died you see, and he was in her second litter. Father was a Tribute, but he never made it back out." Her voice was thick with emotion.

Cier touched his tail to Clovermist's shoulder. "You poor thing. Well, I don't doubt that you've got a real shot in these games, and you'll be able to fight in memory of your father. I wish you good luck."

Many cats murmured about, expressing how simply unfortunate it was that this lovely cat had experienced such loss. Her cheers were louder than any others as she exited.

Finally they were down to RiverClan. Stoneslash was last. _Last again._ Stoneslash thought with a forced chuckled. _Lets get this over with._ He clambered up the tree, sitting beside Cier. "Ladies and Gentlemen, our final Tribute, Stoneslash! How are you feeling?"

Stoneslash took a deep breath. "Honestly, hungry. My stylist didn't let me eat today." His response was greeted by a course of laughter.

"That's quite a shame, my friend! I'm sure after the interview you'll be able to eat to your heart's content! Now, tell me, do you have a special someone back home?"

Stoneslash shook his head. "No, I'm a bit of a loner, really. Not many friends."

"What, a handsome tom like you? Come on, there must be a lady out there!"

Stoneslash blinked. "Honestly, no. I worry more about my clan's survival than romance."

"That's a shame! Well, when you get home, I'm sure plenty of the she-cats will have their eyes on you!"

_Yeah, right. I've already been told I won't be home for long, if I somehow manage to win._

"Er- thank you."

"Anyways, Stoneslash, what do you think your main advantage will be in the Games?"

"Well, I wouldn't want to give anything too important away, now would I?" Stoneslash gave Cier a wink.

"Oh, come now, I'm sure you can give us a little hint, eh?" The crowd gave a few calls of encouragement.

"Well, I suppose I'm fairly good with hunting, and my size gives me an advantage in battle." The gray tom flexed his claws.

"Interesting! I'm sure we'll all be looking forward to seeing how well you perform!" Cier grinned, before waving his tail slightly. "Well, I believe that's all we have time for, so everyone, please , say farewell to Stoneslash of ThunderClan!"

Cats cheered their farewell as Stoneslash climbed back down.

Finch, the old gray tabby that was his mentor, shook her head as he jumped down. "You sure charmed a few with your looks, but you weren't very convincing with your speech."

"I'm sorry, okay?" Stoneslash growled. "I didn't ask to be here, I don't want to be here! I might not even make it through the first day! I don't know what I'm doing here!"

Finch's eyes narrowed. "You'll live, I'll make sure of it. Training will start tomorrow. Its been a long day of interviews. You can hang around here for awhile, which I highly recommend, so that you make a few allies."

Stoneslash sat down with a sigh. "Who do you suggest? I don't know who I should try to talk to."

"Well, first of all, steer clear of that Frostleaf. She's a cold killer, trust me. She might sound all sweet, but that's how many of them start out." Finch decided. "You should go to cats of your own clan first. Who do you think stands a chance? Honestly, you're ThunderClan's best, but who do you think is next? I haven't lived with any of them."

Stoneslash thought for a moment. _Pinetooth is almost an elder. Not quite, but he's definitely not at his peak age. Probably will only slow me down. Mousewing could have potential. _He remembered her determined face at the Reaping. "Mousewing." He decided.

Finch nodded. "Okay. As for the other clans, Clovermist looks promising. Not too shady, but she could be hiding something. For now, you might want to stay away. Let her come to you. Nettleshade, the ShadowClan tom, could be helpful, though he has been sticking around with Ravenflame, who seems a bit useless. So you'll have to decide for yourself. Robinflight is obviously useless, what with her dead paw. Ah, and there was a RiverClan tom that could be useful, I believe his name was Ripplefang. Seems a bit of a loner, but looks strong. That's all I've got for you. But use good judgement. One wrong ally can make you dead."

_StarClan, that's a lot to think about._ Stoneslash blinked. Mousewing would be a good ally, as they were clanmates, but as for the others, that would be difficult. Frostleaf would probably try and get a pack together. That could be good or bad for him, if he could get inside. But packs could be dangerous, and there was rarely a sense of trust between them.

"I'll leave you to it. Don't claw anyone's whiskers, alright?" Finch turned and stalked off.

* * *

**Wow. Longest chapter I've ever written, at 3,305 words. The next chapter should be out in a day or two, so stay tuned! Thanks for reading, and don't forget to vote!**

**Phoenix Oblivion- Wow! Thank you so much :D! I actually thought your story was amazing. I'm really glad you like all the characters and the story. Thanks again :DD!**


	3. Alliances

**Author's Note: This chapter takes place from both Nettleshade's and then Frostleaf's perspective, taking a darker turn at the end. It also gives you a little glimpse of Frostleaf and how she feels about herself. A bit short, though.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Nettleshade glanced around uncertainly. The crowd had broken up, though some cats milled about, conversing and gossiping about their favorite Tributes. As for the Tributes themselves, they were all on the island, near the tree. Most of the apprentices were hanging around together, trying to not act like all they wanted to do was run and hide under a bush, while the older cats had moved into small groups, or sat alone.

_Where should I go? I know Ravenflame is pretty much a set ally, but it would be helpful to have one more at least. There'll likely be a pack, there usually always is. _Nettleshade studied the groups carefully.

The largest group circled around Frostleaf. There was a large, broad-shouldered brown tabby named Ripplefang that sat silently with the group, but did not say anything. He only spoke when a cat asked him something, and to that he would only give short, one-worded answers. A black tom was also with the group, though he spoke frequently and with liveliness. _What was his name again? Hm. Ah, that's right, Flintclaw. WindClan, I think._ He also noted that Shoalpaw, who had been only a moon away from being eligible to be a warrior, had somehow joined them as well. There were a few other Tributes who would occasionally pad over and make a comment, and there were two others that joined the group that he did not recognize.

Stoneslash sat a bit of a ways away, conversing slightly with Mousewing, another ThunderClan Tribute. They seemed to be like him and Ravenflame; not particularly close, but from the same clan and have already silently agreed to be allied.

Clovermist sat farther apart from both small groups, and from the way she watched the others, seemed to have the same idea that Nettleshade had. In that moment that he looked at her, she turned her head and calmly met his gaze. Her bright green eyes studied him for a heart-beat. Then she stood and padded towards him.

"Nettleshade, right?" Clovermist mewed in a friendly tone, sitting beside the ShadowClan tom._._

"Er- yes. Clovermist, right? You're the one that made half the toms in the crowd faint."

Clovermist laughed. "I didn't mean to. Stylist's fault, really. It's strange, having a cat groom you like that."

Nettleshade nodded, chuckling a little. "Yeah, at least they didn't curl my pelt around like they did with yours. I'd never be able to get all those twists smoothed!"

"Hah, I'm not sure I'll be able to, myself." Clovermist flicked her ears towards Frostleaf's group. "Didn't feel like joining them, huh? Probably the best bet. Packs are always dangerous, especially when the numbers start dwindling."

Nettleshade flattened his ears slightly. "Yeah. Its best not to get involved with large groups. A few cats works, but get too many in a game where you have to kill each other together and something bad's bound to happen."

"Game." Growled Clovermist. "I hate that. The Hunger _Games._ Nothing but a game, where you shred pelts and tear throats and spread another cat's entrails from StarClan to the lakeside. Some game, putting in apprentices when its obvious they'll only die."

Nettleshade blinked. "Do you really believe in StarClan?" Many cats had given up on their faith, or cursed their ancestors for letting this happen to them. Nettleshade wasn't sure if he believed or not. If they were real, then at least it meant there was some place better than all of this. If they weren't, it didn't make much of a difference on his life. He could still starve to death, and StarClan wouldn't change that.

"I have to." Clovermist mewed softly. "I have to believe that all of this suffering leads to somewhere. This can't be it. Starvation and murder, there has to be somewhere after life where everyone can finally be at peace." The mottled brown she-cat hesitated. "I-I didn't lie when I said my father was a Tribute. Sixth game. He made it for awhile, but he got caught up in a pack, and, well, like you said, bad things are bound to happen. I like to think that he's up there, watching over me, waiting in the stars for when I die."

"I'm sorry." Nettleshade murmured. _These games only cause more pain. It's not fair, all of this. If only someone could go against- No! I can't risk thinking like that. Right now, all I want is to live._ His eyes went back to Clovermist for a moment. _But do I really want to watch her die?_

"So," Clovermist said suddenly, sitting back up. "Allies?"

Nettleshade closed his eyes. "Allies."

* * *

Frostleaf looked around the clearing. Some of the Tributes were starting to head back to their dens with a Peacekeeper or two, and others were yawning and blinking drowsily. It was past midnight. Even Frostleaf was getting a bit tired. She glanced at Ripplefang. "Shall we head back to the dens?"

He twitched an ear. "Okay." A slight nod was the only farewell he gave to the other cats that had been conversing with them. Frostleaf rolled her eyes and muttered out a goodbye before turning and walking off towards the reeds at the edge of the island where the RiverClan Tributes' dens were located. When they were far enough away from the others, Frostleaf glanced at Ripplefang sharply and snapped, "Are you sure you're in? Because if you try anything in the arena you're good as dead, clear?"

Ripplefang didn't so much as flinch. "Don't be stupid. I stick to my word. I owe you, and I know that. So I'm making up for it now. You don't need to question me about it." With that, he sped up slightly and left her behind.

For some reason, this retort infuriated Frostleaf. _Thinks he can call me stupid, tell me what I can't question._ A small part of her knew she was being irrational, but she didn't care. There was a small, tiny little piece of her, the part that made her question her sanity, that made her want to be in the arena already. Two weeks was too long. She wanted to shred someone right now. And although she might always seem like a cold-blooded killer, this side scared her sometimes. At night, she would lie awake, afraid of herself. Of what she would do if she were too angry, too insane.

Frostleaf shook her head. _Maybe in the arena, I can cure whatever this… thirst for blood is. Kill and then not look back, and maybe I won't feel like I need to do it anymore. Maybe._ Even these thoughts didn't help much.

She laid down in her nest, watching Ripplefang for a minute. He was already asleep, his flanks rising and falling slowly. If only sleep was that simple. It was either lie awake in the dark, left with her even darker thoughts, or sleep, with the most chilling nightmares.

Frostleaf chose sleep this time.

Her eyes closed, and she drifted out of consciousness.

There was barely any light, it was dark all around her. The scent of blood filled the air, making Frostleaf gag. It was almost as though she could taste the blood- no, she _could_ taste it. It was rising up around her paws, from dead bodies of cats that littered the ground. The carcasses covered the earth, all ripped open in the most frightening, disgusting ways possible. She wanted to close her eyes, but she couldn't, and she kept seeing all of the dead bodies. The blood kept flowing, rising up around her legs. The sticky crimson fluid seeped into her fur, and Frostleaf opened her jaws to scream, but blood rushed into her mouth, down her throat, choking her, cutting off her breath. The blood was all around her. She couldn't swim, couldn't escape the flow of blood.

Forstleaf woke up, gasping for air. There was no blood, her paws were clean, her pelt white as usual. The blood had frightened her, of course, but that wasn't what scared her the most.

It was that fur and blood of the cats had been in her claws before the blood drowned her.

She had killed all of those cats.


	4. Bloodbath

**Author's Note: Well, here we go! The bloodbath begins! [Evil cackling]**

* * *

Stoneslash stared up at the stars from his nest under a wide oak tree. _I could be dead tomorrow. Dead. StarClan, are you out there? Will there be somewhere better than this, if I die? _

The cold stars gave no reply. Stoneslash sighed. _What am I doing? StarClan won't answer me. They never have._

"Can't sleep?" Mousewing moved over to join the large gray tom.

"How can I?" Growled Stoneslash. "Half of us will be dead by noon tomorrow. Could be you or me."

"Shut up, mouse-brain. We're going to live. At least for awhile. We won't be going out in the first few minutes like a lot of the others."

"But why do they do this to us? They've already beaten us, why not just line us up and execute us twice a year?"

Mousewing shrugged. "Control. Gives us a ray of hope through the darkness. One cat will return home, but which? Everyone clings to the hope that it will be their friend, their child, their parent that makes it. Then for those that don't, they lose the will to go on. No fight left. As for the empty shells that come home with blood on their paws, well, they've got so little spirit left in them as it is."

"I hate them." Stoneslash growled, his head falling. "StarClan knows I want to live, but, I don't want to be the empty, soulless survivor."

Mousewing sighed. "Well, dwelling on it won't make you feel any better. Lets sleep, okay?"

Stoneslash nodded numbly. He curled up, shutting his eyes. To his surprise, Mouseeing curled up against him. _If she wants to, I guess._

He slowed his breathing, but sleep did not come for a long time.

* * *

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the eighth Hunger Games! Our Tributes will be arriving in the arena shortly, and the Games will begin!"

Cier was sitting on top of a large tree, a croud gathered at the top of a hill.

The twenty-four Tributes all were led into the arena by ranks of Peacekeepers. Cobwebs covered their eyes, and they had to rely on the cats nearby them for navigation.

The cats were led to their positions, forming a wide semi-circle.

"Tributes may now remove their webs!"

All of the cats pawed at their faces, swiping off the sticky webs. They began to gaze around, trying to take notice of their surroundings in the little time they had.

Behind them, to the South, was a steep hill, where logs and brambles formed a barrier at the top, separating the audience from the arena.

The North, where the faced, led out off the small valley they were in towards what looked like a pond or lake. Slightly off to the East was dry dirt and rocks. The West was not visible to them yet.

The sun was directly overhead, casting heat down on the un sheltered cats.

"Ten!"

Stoneslash looked around quickly, spotting Mousewing. She was out on the end, and he was more towards the middle. They would need to escape.

"Nine!"

Frostleaf's eyes darted back and forth.

"Eight!"

She quickly decided the cat nearest to her left would be the first to die. Ripplefang was near the old ThunderClan tom, Piketooth. He'd probably take care of that one.

"Seven!"

Clovermist, by some stroke of luck, had Nettleshade just to her right. Ravenflame was two cats past him. Nettleshade met her gaze and nodded.

"Six!"

Nettleshade was aware of Flintfang's eager stare on his pelt.

"Five!"

Stoneslash tensed his muscles. Mousewing finally caught sight of him. She was starting to crouch, ready to bolt.

"Four!"

Frostleaf's claws unsheathed.

"Three!"

Clovermist narrowed her eyes, ready to fight or flee, whichever her allies chose.

"Two!"

Nettleshade turned his head to see Flintfang smile dangerously at him.

"One!"

Everyone tensed.

"Zero!"

Screeches instantly erupted.

Mousewing shot off, which was no feat for her, being directly at one end of the line. Stoneslash began to follow, dodging a blow from a WindClan tom.

Frostleaf whirled around and dashed forward towards the small apprentice. He let out a shriek as she smashed him to the ground with both forepaws. His hind legs kicked at her belly in terror, but Frostleaf only laughed and slashed a gaping wound down the apprentice's underbelly. Blood gushed up as the young tom let out a choking sound.

Clovermist batted away a ShadowClan apprentice, who she later recalled to be Shoalpaw. Shoalpaw hissed and leaped for her again. The thick-pelted WindClan warrior hissed and jumped to the side, dodging easily. Shoalpaw slashed towards her with outstretched claws. Clovermist again sidestepped, and this time snapped her jaws into the apprentice's scruff. She twisted around, hauling the smaller cat off her paws and managing to throw her to the ground. "I'll let you go this time." Clovermist growled. "Others won't be so merciful."

Flintfang, with a hiss, shot at Nettleshade like a flash of lightning. The ShadowClan tom had no time to retaliate before he was knocked off his paws and fell, knocking his head straight into the ground with blinding pain. He let out a shriek. Blindly and with desperation, he twisted, lashing out with his forepaws. A resulting yowl from Flintfang and the disappearance of his weight signaled that his claws had made a lucky blow. Nettleshade stumbled to his paws, blinking as his vision cleared. He caught sight of Ravenfame escaping from another attacker, and Clovermist throwing around an apprentice. "Clovermist! Ravenflame! Let's go!" He willed his paws to move, and started sprinting away as fast as he could, quickly joined by his companions.

Stoneslash caught up to Mousewing, panting. "Anyone followed us?" She asked quickly. He turned back to check. Most other cats were either fighting or fleeing in other directions. Back where the semi-circle had started, blood smeared the ground and shrieks of pain and agony were constantly ringing out. It didn't look like anyone was directly following the pair. All the better. "Doesn't seem like it. Lets get out of here. East, towards the rocks." Mousewing gave him a questioning glance, but started running off in the eastern direction.

Frostleaf glanced down at the body pinned beneath her. Another weak apprentice. Her muzzle and paws were stained with sticky crimson blood. "Are you quite finished yet?" She looked up at Ripplefang. "Everyone that stayed is either dead or with the pack. The rest escaped." Frostleaf looked around. True to his words, there was only Flintfang, who was sporting a gash along his side, Shoalpaw, surprisingly enough, Doeleap, Hickorytail of WindClan, Shocktail, another RiverClan warrior, and Ripplefang and herself. A ShadowClan apprentice, three WindClan warriors, and three of her own clan. Seven cats total.

"Lets head out of here. We can try and track down any others who escaped, but our main goal for tonight should be to find a good source of food, water, and some decent shelter." Frostleaf gave everyone a hard look, daring someone to challenge her. None did. The bloodbath had exhausted and frightened almost all of them. Rest would be welcome. "Besides," she continued, "We might get lucky and by tomorrow the others will have fought amongst themselves and taken some work off our paws." A few chuckles showed her words were appreciated. _Hm. They all seem to accept me as the leader. At least, for now. I need to maintain that. I know Ripplefang will do almost anything I order, and the stupid apprentice will be easy to control, and hopefully Shocktail will stay loyal just because we come from the same clan. He isn't the leader type anyway, but a good fighter, which will come in handy. Though having three WindClan cats could be a problem later if we lose one of ours. I'll deal with that if it comes up._

* * *

The moon was almost straight overhead. Only an hour until midnight. Moonhigh. The time when Cier would go back to the hills where they started, and announce the names of the Tributes who died. The sound traveled well, due to the logs and shape of the hills that caused loud sound to echo.

Stoneslash was keeping watch over his and Mousewing's current camp. They had agreed it would be suicide to try and sleep at the same time on the first night, so he volunteered to keep watch at night. Now he just wanted to curl up in a warm nest and sleep.

_Crunch._

Stoneslash's ears stood straight up, his pelt bushing up. "Who's there?" He demanded, instantly regretting the words. _You idiot, if its the pack, you've led them straight to you!_ He unsheathed his claws.

"Relax. Its just me, the poor, pitiful cripple." A sarcastic tone responded to his inquiry. Robinflight stepped forward, or rather, limped. One of her forepaws was twisted, and she kept it raised above the ground as she approached. Stoneslash widened his eyes in surprise. "You survived?"

"Yes, no thanks to you or anyone else in this damned game."

He flattened his ears. "Look, I'm sorry, I was-"

Robinflight smiled slightly. "Don't worry about it. I guess you could say that bloody Frostleaf did me a favor in the interviews, making me out as such a useless wimp, no one happened to notice me limp away from the bloodbath as soon as it started. Guess it helped too that I was on the other end opposite your friend." The she-cat chuckled.

Stoneslash studied the she-cat for a moment. She was a calico, creamy white with blotches of brown, black, and orange throughout her pelt. Her injured paw was twisted, but on closer examination it looked like it had been crushed. Two claws were unsheathed, and it looked like the injury made that permanent. The rest were either sheathed or possibly not even there. Despite her mangled foot, she was actually quite pretty, if you really took the time to notice.

"Well, are you going to kill me, or not? Either way, I don't really mind, its not like I'll live much longer anyways."

"N-no." Stoneslash blinked. "I can't really kill you now, that would be impolite, wouldn't it?"

She laughed at him. "Yes, how unfortunate. Then may I stay here, with you?"

"I don't see why not." The gray tom shrugged. "Make yourself at home.

* * *

"Safe?"

"Think so."

"Thank StarClan. I barely escaped that WindClan she-cat."

Clovermist looked sharply up at Ravenflame. "What WindClan she-cat?"

He thought for a moment. "Light brown tabby."

"Doeleap." She hissed. "Probably went to join that damn pack. What a fool."

Nettleshade sighed. "I know Flintfang was probably with them. Shoalpaw, too. She was almost a warrior. So close. My sister's apprentice. I think she joined them because she hoped for a better chance of survival."

Clovermist nodded. "Shoalpaw, that's right. I could've killed her, but I didn't. Let her go. How many do you think died?"

Nettleshade shrugged. "Dunno. Got out of there quick as we could. But its almost Moonhigh, Cier'll be calling their names soon."

That left them in an awkward silence. "Er- I'm going to hunt." Ravenflame backed away, turning and heading off into the forest.

The trio had fled to the west, which had turned out to be a dense forest. Clovermist was uncomfortable there, but she had to agree that it gave them good cover. But their enemies would also have good cover, which could be a problem.

"Attention, Attention!"

A booming echo rang out. It was hard to hear it from this point, but if they strained their ears, it was clear enough."

"Many Tributes have fallen today. We honor their courage and sacrifice. The dead are the following: from ThunderClan, Lilypaw and Mintpaw. From WindClan, Ryepaw and Shalepelt. From RiverClan, Berrypaw. And from ShadowClan, Sweetpaw, Cinderpaw, and Barkpaw."

Cier's voice died out.

* * *

Eight Tributes dead. And none of them were Robinflight. _How… interesting. How is it that Shalepelt died and Robinflight lived? Strange. She'll only die off anyway. No big deal. _

Frostleaf curled up. The pack was sleeping alongside the pond that marked the middle of the arena. Quite possibly, it could be the only water source there. It would lure in the other Tributes for water. How else would they survive? Unless of course there were more sources than this. For now, Frostleaf would have to bet on the pond.

She closed her eyes. Frostleaf was too tired to deny sleep. It enveloped her like a warm blanket, this time without the darkness and fear, only comfort.

* * *

**No one important dead yet; even Robinflight's still kicking! **

**Might not be that way for long, though! (muhahaha…)**


End file.
